


Pick Who Dies

by ellay_gee



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: Hardy Boys - Franklin W. Dixon
Genre: Gen, Violence, case files universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellay_gee/pseuds/ellay_gee
Summary: When a case gone wrong catches Callie and Joe in the crossfire, Frank may have to make the hardest decision of his life
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949494
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Pick Who Dies

**Author's Note:**

> back with a new story for whumptober! Please note that this is the case files universe, but still a little au cause I dislike canon Callie and I wanted a little drama in the too-squeaky-clean family dynamic of the Hardy's.

Frank is pacing again. His mother and his Aunt Gertrude watch him from the couch, two sets of eyes flicking back and forth with his incessant movement. 

He lets out a pained sigh, rubbing at his cracked ribs.

“Honey, sit down a minute--” his mother starts but doesn’t finish when he trains his dark eyes upon her. 

“They said four o’clock. It’s four fifteen and nothing.” He presses into his ribs harder now, letting the memories flood back with the pain.

* * *

_“...you can’t just watch a movie or two and decide someone is your favorite hero, it doesn’t work like that.” Joe snarked from the back seat of Callie’s car._

_“Just because you don’t like her doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to!” Callie replied, rolling her eyes at him from where she’d half turned in her seat so she could better glare at Joe._

_“I didn’t say I didn’t like her, I said_ you _couldn’t like her just from the movies. That’s dumb, everyone knows the movies don’t get everything right.”_

_Callie groaned. “Frank, tell your little brother--”_

_Joe scoffed, muttering something under his breath that set Callie to grinning like a wolf._

_“--that if he wants to tag along with us, he’s got to keep his opinions to himself.”_

_“Hey,” Joe said with that tone that leaked in just a little bit of real hurt. “I was a big help during the case, Dad said so himself.”_

_Frank caught his little brother’s eye in the rearview and gave him a tired smile. He really had been a big help, but he’d gotten himself hurt, too. Thus Frank’s second turn at the wheel on their ten-hour drive back to Bayport. ”Joe, Callie is allowed to like Captain Marvel. Callie, stop picking on Joe.”_

_He had to keep himself from rolling his eyes when Joe stuck his tongue out at Callie and Callie stuck her tongue out at Frank. This had been the longest weekend._

_"I need coffee.” He declared, seeing the glowing sign for one of those gas station/truck stop restaurant/souvenir shop monstrosities. He pulled in, having to circle the lot to find a gas pump that was both unoccupied and in working order, ending up in a far corner that may as well have been in a different county from the station itself._

_“Good, I need to stretch my legs.” Joe said, shifting uncomfortably._

_Frank frowned back at his brother as he put the car in park. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? We could have stopped.”_

_Joe shrugged. “I’ve had worse injuries from football, I can handle it.”_

_“You have a wrenched ankle_ and _knee, sprained wrist and a mild concussion, Joe. You went down two flights of stairs; I think you’re entitled to ask for a break if you need one.”_

_Joe just shook his head, alleviating Frank’s renewed worry with a crooked smile. “Can I ask for some pork rinds if I need them? And an orange soda? And a hotdog?”_

_“Yeah, yeah. Callie, you want anything?”_

_“Yes, twizzlers and for this never-ending car ride to be over.” She smiled sweetly at him even as she flipped off Joe who was mocking her from where he was trying to get the back door open with his bum hand._

_He grinned and pecked her on the cheek. “Two more hours, babe. Then we’ll be home.”_

_Callie smiled at him and got out to help Joe out of the back to walk around the lot, starting up their comic vs movie debate again. Frank shook his head fondly and sauntered toward the store, making a beeline for the restroom once he got in._

_He hadn’t even realized something was happening. It took another late-night patron yelling to the clerk that there was a fight out by the gas pumps to get him to glance outside. His froze for a crucial few moments, his tired brain refusing to register what was happening. At the far end of the parking lot where he’d left his brother and girlfriend, a dark van was partially obscuring the view of Joe and Callie struggling with three large men clad all in black._

_Frank dropped everything he was holding as he made a mad dash for the doors, leaving a hotdog and splattered coffee in his wake. In the seven strong strides it took to get to the doors, Joe went down. Letting out a guttural scream as his insides twisted in horror, he broke into a run._

_His cry grabbed the attention of a few truckers in the side lot where the semis were accommodated who took off running toward the group as well._

_It was too little, too late._

_Joe’s boneless body was thrown in the back of the van, his face a mask of blood from where his eyebrow had been split during the altercation. Callie was dragged in behind him and as the last kidnapper hopped aboard, the van careened toward the highway._

_Frank pumped his legs, chasing the van for all he was worth, but was forced to dive into a ditch on the side of the road when someone from the passenger side of the van opened fire on him._

_He lay at the bottom of the steep drop in a heap of pain and grief while in a cacophony of screeching tires and blaring horns, the van sped up the onramp onto the highway and was gone._

* * *

The men who had taken Joe and Callie were quick to contact Fenton Hardy with their demands. They worked for the guy that they had just had arrested; they wanted him released, freed of all charges, and brought to a currently undisclosed location where he would be traded for Joe and Callie. Frank was to remain home and be the go-between. 

It is now day three and they are _late_. 

Frank’s ready to vibrate out of his skin, he’s so anxious. 

It’s four-twenty when his computer finally alerts him to the incoming video call. He sighs in relief all the while filing with a new anxiety as he settles into the chair and clicks on the accept icon.

The screen is filled with the face of the same man who’d contacted them before; the same man who Joe took a tumble down the stairs with. 

His dark eyes were hard and his expression tense as turned his head and stepped back a little, allowing a view of some of the room behind him.

Callie and Joe were both tied to what looked like straight-back kitchen chairs that had been bolted to the floor. 

Callie was a little worse-for-wear, sporting a swollen lip and a few dark patches of skin around her temple and cheek. 

Joe’s head was slumped into his chest, but from what Frank could tell he’d taken at least one pretty bad beating. 

“You think you’re so smart, huh kid?” The man asks as he backs toward where the two are tied. “You think we don’t have eyes everywhere? That we wouldn’t smell your little trap a mile away?”

Frank bit the insides of his lip as his heart picked up in speed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The trade off--”

“Was a trap!” The man--Elmer Mulcahy--snapped. Callie shrunk back from him, eyes darting to the screen every so often.

“But we got you all figured out. Already sent your dear old dad pics of what we did to Blondie, here.” He gripped Joe by the hair, lifting his head for a brief moment and revealing to Frank the full extent of the damage. 

It was not pretty. Frank swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise and thanked every god there ever was that his mother had opted to remain out of view of the screen. 

“If there was something going on, I would know about it!” Frank all but shouted into the camera, grimacing as the man let his brother’s head drop back down.

“That’s exactly what I’m betting on, too. So I figured what more fitting punishment for your involvement in this double cross--”

“There’s no double cross!” Frank was frantically dialing his father, but the ringer went straight to voicemail. He heaved the phone across the room in his frustration. 

“--than for you to take an active role in the punishment. Now, I’m not a cruel man,” he smiled a little, glancing down at Joe who had just begun to stir, “usually. So on the off chance that you’re telling the truth, I’m going to let one of these two go on my way out of town. You have my word that I’ll leave them somewhere warm and safe.”

Frank bit his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes. “And the other?”

“Well, Frankie my boy, that’s the fun part. You get to pick which one dies!”

That seemed to wake Joe up just as much as it horrified his brother. He focused on Mulcahy with his one good eye. “Dude, fuck off.”

This of course was the wrong thing to say. Mulcahy backhanded him hard enough for him to spray the floor with a spatter of blood. Not to be deterred, Joe raised his head again to stare into the camera. “Pick me, Frank. It’s ok. Just pick me.”

“What?!” Frank exclaimed just as his Aunt Getrude led his mother from the room as she was unable to control her sobs. “No! Joe, this is crazy!”

Mulcahy laughed long and dark. “Yeah, Frankie, pick him. I’d love to rip him apart. Well, the rest of the way at any rate.”

“Pick me, Frank. You love Callie! It’ll devastate you if something happens to her. I-I know what that’s like, and it’s fucking _unbearable_. It’s ok, just pick me.”

Frank didn’t know how to respond to that. The loss of Joe’s girlfriend Iola Martin is still relatively fresh. Joe had only recently been acting more like himself lately, and now Frank is wondering if maybe he was seeing something he wanted to see. His brother looked _wounded_ , and not just physically. 

That single word voiced all his anger and self loathing and grief into four little syllables, and it broke Frank’s heart. 

His mouth flapped dumbly, and before he’d gathered wit enough to respond, Callie was joining in. “No, pick me, Frank! I know how much you love Joe, you’d never forgive yourself if you let this monster kill him.”

Frank didn’t know what to do. Did he indulge this man?

“Shut up, Callie. Let me do this for you. For Frank.” Joe’s voice was hard, but Frank could tell he was losing steam. He lolled his head over to face Mulcahy again. “Dude, I pick me, just fucking end it.”

The man shook his head, frowning down at Joe. “No, I want your brother to pick. I want him to say the words and live the rest of his life knowing that _he_ made that decision.”

“I can’t believe how selfish you’re being right now, Joe!” Callie yell-hissed at the two, drawing a curious stare from their captor. “Frank, he’s being ridiculous, pick me.” 

“Dammit, Callie!” Joe struggled in his bonds, groaning as he pulled on one of his many hurts. “I’m trying to be the bigger guy here, for once in your life can you shut up and let me do the nice thing?”

Callie huffed; honest to god huffed. In the middle of a hostage situation with at least one of their lives in the balance, she managed to be _offended._ “Selfless my ass, you just want all the attention--”

“What _attention?_ I’ll be dead! The attention won’t matter because I’ll be gone!”

Mulcahy sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. “Your bickering is growing boring, kids.”

But did they listen? No.

Frank literally was at a loss for words. What was so wrong with these two that they’d try to one-up each other in who Frank picks to die? What planet is he even on?

Callie did as much of an approximation to stamping her foot, as trussed up as she was. “Oh and like you wouldn’t just gobble that up. Everyone crying ‘Oh Joe, what a selfless hero’ and ‘that Hardy boy sure was something’ and ‘oh, remember handsome Joe Hardy? He sacrificed himself for that Shaw girl’.”

“Like you’d be any better.” Joe slurs, casting her a glare. They seem to have forgotten everything else going on. “You’d die happy knowing I was in debt to you so deep that I could never pay it back. ‘Ooh I’m Callie Shaw and I died to save my boyfriend’s annoying little brother, la-di-da’.”

“La-di-da, I’ll show you la-di-da!” Callie shouted.

And that’s when it happened. Suddenly there was a pop and smoke poured across the screen, completely obscuring Frank’s view of the scene. A cacophony erupted form the speakers, shouts and running feet and pained grunts and a single shot fired before all went silent behind the swirling smoke. 

Frank was not a praying man. But right now…

* * *

“So you’re saying you planned it all?” Frank was incredulous. He sat in a hard plastic chair next to his brother’s hospital bed, enjoying a few minutes of alone time while the others were out getting food. 

“Well, not from the beginning. One of the guards I could see out the double doors was taken down and dragged off, and I figured Dad had found us. So I thought me and Callie could provide a distraction.” He smiled almost fondly. “Luckily she caught on quick...or else she’s a really weird psycho and you should dump her immediately.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” They laughed at that, soft and warm and real. 

It felt good.

A few heartbeats passed. “Joe? Are you ok?” He asks it tentatively, afraid of the answer; not only of the thought that his brother would lie to him and say he was, but of the possibility of him telling the truth and Frank not knowing how to help him.

“It’s just a few busted rib and a broken nose and some scrapes--”

“And a contusion.”

“And a contusion.” Joe agreed. 

Frank hummed when his brother fell silent. “You know that’s not what I mean, right?” 

The response was a long time in coming, but it wasn’t unexpected. A hardness fell back over Joe’s features and a wall that Frank had almost forgotten was put firmly back in place. 

“Yeah Frank, I’m fine.”

Frank’s smile was grim. “Yeah, I know buddy. I’m here for you if you’re not, though. Just so you know.”

Joe forced some cheerfulness back into his expression as he pulled the blankets up around himself. “I’m getting pretty tired, Frank. I think I should maybe get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” Frank hummed to himself as he stood. He reached out and patted Joe’s shoulder affectionately. “I’ll see you in the morning; get some rest.”

Frank stayed only a few moments more, long enough for Joe’s features to slacken as his medication pulled him into sleep.

* * *

Frank was exiting through the large double doors of Bayport General when he ran into his father heading in. Fenton tried to catch his eye, but Frank breezed past him, his only acknowledgement a pointed look in the opposite direction. 

“You can’t pretend I don’t exist forever, Frank.” Fenton called from behind him, and he tried to keep on walking, but then his father followed up with: “Joe understands, why can’t you?”

Frank whirled, all indignance and righteous fury as he faced his father. “Not only did you leave me out of the loop of your stupid plan, but you almost got Joe and Callie killed. You’re literally here to visit your _baby boy_ in the hospital after some stupid ‘calculated risk’ to get the rest of the syndicate. You’re unbelievable.” 

Fenton’s face wen stony. “They’re dangerous people, Frank. Had we let a single one of them go free, more people could have died. We saw an opportunity and we took it. The plan didn’t go exactly as expected, but it turned out alright in the end.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Frank huffed in disbelief. “Joe is _hurt_.”

“You don’t think I know that? You think I wanted that to happen? He’s my son, for Christ’s sake! You think I like seeing him laying in there?”

Frank was startled into silence by the raw emotion rolling off his father. The man suddenly seemed far older than his 42 years; dragged down by the weight of his experiences. 

“What would you have me do? I couldn’t release the ringleader. They already had Joe and Callie. I made the best plan I could and we all made it home alive. Sometimes that’s the best you can ask for.”

Some of Frank’s resolve crumbled, but he did his best to put on a stoic face. “Yeah, well sometimes that isn’t enough.” Not waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and continued into the parking lot. 

Alone in the van, he let out a long, frustrated scream and beat the palms of his hand against the wheel. After a moment spent gathering his composure, he started turned the key, reversed out of his space, and headed home. 


End file.
